


If I am good

by macwell



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Episode: s13e02 The Gang Escapes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwell/pseuds/macwell
Summary: Short little thing set after The Gang Escapes. Mac and Dennis head back to their apartment.





	If I am good

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Drive Me Home by Adult Mom (https://adultmom.bandcamp.com/track/drive-me-home-3).

Dennis is in a good mood on the way back to the apartment. His fingers curl around the steering wheel of the rental car, and he hums under his breath to the music breaking through the static of the radio. Mac can’t stop thinking about the small ways he’s changed since he got back - the sharper line of Dennis’s jaw, the thinness of his arms. The way he’s vibrating, constantly, under his skin, like there’s something just underneath begging to get out. Dennis has started wearing a watch, too. 

Mac unlocks the door of the apartment once they’re home, and lets Dennis in. Broken things still lay on the floor, shattered glass and plastic and wood. “Leave your shoes on,” Mac says, as he shuts the door behind them. When he glances back, he sees something sharp flick through Dennis’s eyes. He should know better than to give Dennis orders - eventually Dennis softens, though: he nods, once, and lingers by the doorway, like he doesn’t remember what he’s doing there. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow,” Mac says. He’s aching to reach out and run his hands along Dennis’s shoulders, to touch the place where his hair meets the back of his neck. He knows Dennis is lost, Dennis needs him, Dennis doesn’t know that he’s home. He’s so close, tucked between Mac and the door. Mac can smell his cologne, somehow both masculine and cloyingly sweet. 

“Whatever,” Dennis says. “The escape room company should come clean it up. It’s their stuff.” 

“Yeah,” Mac agrees. He lets his hand fall away from the doorknob. Dennis shifts around him, and makes himself comfortable on the couch, lounging against the cushions and letting his legs stretch out to rest on the coffee table like a king returned to his throne. He turns the TV on, and the newscasters start to talk about the weather. 

Mac picks his way across the apartment to the kitchen, and grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He presses it against his cheek and exhales with relief as his skin slowly goes numb. The scratches have been burning ever since Dennis left them there, perfectly parallel and oozing warm blood. They’ve stopped actively bleeding, but whenever he brings his fingers up to touch his face they come away red. He shouldn’t have provoked Dennis. He should have known Dennis would scratch him, but he brought the gum to his mouth, twice, and chewed it anyway, thinking it would bring him back on top, and thinking maybe Dennis would respect him more for it. 

Mac grabs a bag of chips from the countertop, unravels the crinkly aluminum, and munches on them over the sink. A few ounces of steak can only fill him up so much. The bag of peas eventually becomes too cold to bear, so Mac lowers it. He finds a few splotches of pink against the white and blue plastic, and runs his index finger over them, watching his blood spread and bead up like sweat, or rain on a car window. Then he brings the peas back up to his face. For a moment, he just leans against the counter and gazes at Dennis on the couch, comforted by his quiet presence in the apartment. He isn't waiting on Dennis to answer his calls. He doesn’t have to wonder whether Dennis is okay. 

Mac does wonder what Dennis wants from him, though. He wonders how he can make him happy. He wonders if they’re supposed to fall back into old routines, or if Dennis has something else in mind. Mac wishes he didn’t need to tip-toe around him to avoid setting him off - that Dennis’s presence didn’t come with the anxiety of dealing with Dennis’s volatility. 

“What are you doing?” Dennis calls from the living room. 

“Nothing,” Mac says. He licks the salt away from his fingers and his lips, and he puts the chips away. He carries the bag of peas with him into the living room. He sits beside him on the couch because they always sit next to each other. And Mac allows Dennis to scoot closer and to spread his legs slightly, so his thigh bumps against Mac’s, this small seemingly careless touch that makes his stomach flip. He feels Dennis's eyes on him, but by the time he glances up to stare back, Dennis has already turned his focus back to the TV. 

Does Dennis think he doesn’t notice? Does Dennis know that Mac wants to wrap him up in his arms, and hold him tight against his chest, even as his cheek continues to sting from Dennis’s touch? If he knew, would he care? Dennis is a fire, warming him up and burning him all at the same time. Mac’s always standing too close and touching the flames with his fingers because they’re just so tempting: warm and bright and familiar. There are so many things he doesn’t know how to say to him, things that would never come out right. Mac's not good with words. He doesn't want to drive Dennis away. 

"Supposed to storm Wednesday," Dennis says. 

"Yeah," Mac says. The maps on the TV mean nothing to him. "Looks like it."


End file.
